


Quintessentially Romantic

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-04
Updated: 2008-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-16 07:44:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8093824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: It's the morning after the crew has been taken over by the "wisps", and all is not well with Malcolm... Coda to The Crossing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: The latest addition to my Friend In Need series  


* * *

â€œI swear, Captâ€™n: my butt was just about as sore as if Iâ€™d been ridinâ€™ with Hoppalong Cassidy for real.â€ 

Archer chuckled, his merry eyes dancing briefly on Trip before he raised the carafe to offer him and Tâ€™Pol some juice. 

With a predictable â€˜no thank youâ€™ the Vulcan Officer set her spoon down and raised a slightly judgemental gaze on the Chief Engineer. â€œIt appears that you found the experience agreeable, Commander,â€ she commented.

Trip lifted his glass for Archer to fill it. Vulcan-repressing-of-emotions my foot â€“ Trip mused, sucking on his teeth: Tâ€™Polâ€™s voice had held a noticeable touch of sarcasm. â€œI went ridinâ€™, snowboardinâ€™, saw my former girlfriend, relived a nice childhood memory with my dad and had a pile of delicious spareribs...â€ He shrugged. â€œIf those creepy wisps hadnâ€™t had a secret agenda, it would have been just a lot of fun, actually.â€

That won him a longer, steady look and a silent yet meaningful lift of Vulcan eyebrows. It was funny how that simple mannerism of hers could convey so many different messages.

Trip rolled his eyes. â€œTâ€™Pol, I know it ended up beinâ€™ a dangerous situation. What Iâ€™m tryinâ€™ to say is that there was a fun side to it as well.â€ He sought the Captainâ€™s support, but the man was busy shaking salt on his Eggs Benedict.

â€œI fail to see anything enjoyable about the experience, Commander,â€ the Vulcan Officer replied, in a tone that seemed flatter than usual. 

â€œIt wasnâ€™t the same for everyone, Trip,â€ Archer commented. Green eyes shifting to Tâ€™Pol, in a fatherly forgiving tone, he added, â€œI havenâ€™t given him the full report,â€ before digging back into his breakfast.

Trip pensively watched the Vulcan Officer raise a spoonful of that brothy thing she called a breakfast to her lips. As a matter of fact, now that he thought of it, he didnâ€™t exactly know what had happened to the others. He was about to open his mouth, when Tâ€™Pol lowered her spoon with finality to the unfinished bowl and wiped her mouth, replacing her napkin neatly on the table. 

â€œIf youâ€™ll excuse me, Captain,â€ she said, â€œI wish to do something before my Bridge shift begins.â€

The words caught Archer with a full mouth; smiling awkwardly, he hurried to swallow his morsel. â€œOf course, go ahead,â€ he complied.

Trip followed the cat-suited formâ€™s retreat â€“ always an agreeable experience with enjoyable aspects â€“ then turned back to his C.O. 

â€œWhat happened to her?â€ he enquired deadpan. â€œShe seems off.â€

â€œAh, well, sheâ€™s...â€ Archer faltered. â€œSheâ€™s probably still upset from when one of those wisps attacked her,â€ he finally said. â€œIt must have been an upsetting experience; I told you that she fought off one of those beings who was trying to take over her mind. She was upset by it.â€

Trip blinked. Archer might not be a great orator â€“ his famous gazelle speech still made Trip cringe, when he thought of it â€“ but could generally do better than that.

â€œAnd you think thatâ€™s all thatâ€™s upsettinâ€™ her?â€ he teased.

Oblivious to the ribbing, Archer passed the napkin over his mouth, eyes, above it, suspiciously innocent. â€œYeah, Iâ€™m pretty sure.â€ 

â€œSo, tell me.â€ Trip waved a hand in a circular motion. â€œWhat exactly happened to the other people who were taken over? Ya know, Hoshi, Malcolm...â€

â€œThey...â€ Archer bit his lip. â€œYou know that, Trip,â€ he went on dismissively. â€œI had to lock them in their quarters.â€ 

â€œNo, I mean, what happened to our people when those wisps took over their bodies; where were they sent? Is it possible that only I was sent to the playground, so to speak?â€

Frowning pensively, Archer admitted, â€œActually, I havenâ€™t asked them.â€ A moment later a chuckle broke his serious mask. He shook his head. â€œBut Iâ€™m sure Malcolm was glad to regain possession of his body. I bet heâ€™s---â€ 

The man cut himself off abruptly, and Trip watched his eyes subtly track to a nondescript spot on the tablecloth. 

â€œHeâ€™s what?â€ he prompted. But Archer grabbed his glass, gulped down his juice and rose. 

â€œHow stupid of me, I forgot to give Porthos his breakfast,â€ he mumbled. 

As he watched another, definitely less interesting backside disappear behind the closing door, Trip narrowed his gaze. 

Well, this just begged to be looked into.  
\-----

Exiting the Captainâ€™s Private Mess, Trip scanned the busy Mess Hall. 

Enterprise was reawakening to a new day, no doubt about it. The A-shift crew was up and getting ready to go on duty, and the place was crowded and noisy. There might be no sunrise out of the large porthole, but one didnâ€™t need it to know what time of the day it was: cutlery clinked, voices buzzed, uniforms looked pristine, and the strong aroma of coffee filled the air, mingling with wafts of shampoo and after-shave.

It took Trip a moment to find the people he was looking for, but finally he caught a glimpse of Hoshi and Travis, walking trays-in-hand towards a free table. The person he most wanted was nowhere to be seen, but he might sound the ground with the two of them first. 

Taking advantage of a rare break in the line at the drink dispenser, Trip got himself another coffee â€“ one more could never hurt â€“ and started resolutely towards their table.

â€œEnsigns,â€ he greeted. â€œMind if I sit with you guys?â€ 

Hoshiâ€™s smile was warm and welcoming. â€œOf course not, Commander.â€ 

â€œDidnâ€™t you forget something, Sir?â€ Travis enquired, shooting a disapproving glance at Tripâ€™s lonely cup. 

Slipping into his seat, Trip grinned â€“ Mayweather had one of the healthiest appetites on board. â€œIâ€™ve had breakfast with the Captâ€™n and Tâ€™Pol already. Just having second helpings of wake-up juice.â€

Travis grinned back. â€œThatâ€™s good to know. I was beginning to fear that the crew was falling prey to some alien bug.â€ At Tripâ€™s questioning glance, and Hoshiâ€™s silent â€˜I know as much as you doâ€™ shrug, he went on to explain, â€œI met Lieutenant Reed in the corridor.â€ The lively dark eyes bounced back and forth from one to the other. â€œWhen I asked him if he was headed for the Mess he said he wasnâ€™t hungry. Seemed off.â€

Hmm. 

Spreading his napkin over his legs, Travis wasted no more time before digging into his pancakes, and Trip watched him eat, sipping on his drink. 

â€œSo you found a way to escape those wisps, huh?â€ he threw him after a while. That much, at least, he knew.

Travisâ€™s eyes came up from his plate with a hint of dread in them. â€œIâ€™m sure glad I did,â€ he groaned. â€œIt was a relief to realise they werenâ€™t coming through the hatch to the catwalk. It was a close call, though.â€

â€œLucky you,â€ Hoshi commented deadpan. â€œI would have gladly done without the experience.â€

Trip studied the Linguistâ€™s far-from-happy face. Time to do a bit of digging. â€œBetween us,â€ he said, â€œNow that things have turned out okay, I thought it was kind of fun.â€

Travisâ€™s fork â€“ pancake and all â€“ stopped in mid-air. â€œWith all due respect, Commander, that uppercut you landed on me wasnâ€™t all that much fun. You scared the hell out of me.â€

â€œI landed on you...â€ Trip frowned in puzzlement. Heâ€™d been riding with Hoppalong Cassidy and snowboarding and... Damnâ€¦ â€œYou mean that that wisp in my body...â€

Travis nodded slowly. â€œYup. Good, heavy punch.â€ 

The man passed a hand over his jaw, and Trip saw, on a closer inspection, that it was slightly bruised. â€œHell, Iâ€™m sorry, Travis,â€ he offered, with a contrite wince. 

â€œNah, it wasnâ€™t you, Commander. And my jaw is still in one piece.â€

â€œThank God for that,â€ Trip breathed out, as he watched their Helmsman return to his pancakes.

After a moment Trip turned to Hoshi. â€œI hope at least those wisps sent you some place nice.â€

Sullen eyes levelled on him from above a steaming cup of tea. â€œI was back in the class of the creepiest teacher Iâ€™ve had in all of my years at school,â€ Hoshi said in a deadpan voice. â€œAn old witch who has forever turned me off from math and numbers in general.â€

â€œHoly smoke!â€ Travis chuckled. 

That was not what Trip would call a nice place. He lifted his eyebrows. â€œThatâ€™s all? No fun at all?â€

Hoshiâ€™s mouth twitched in a quick lopsided smirk. â€œNo. Unless you consider fun a huge family reunion where you know the elders are watching your every move lest you slip with tradition.â€

Trip pictured Hoshi awkwardly wrapped in one of those elaborate Japanese costumes, and winced. â€œDefinitely not as much fun as snowboarding,â€ he agreed. 

â€œOh, yeah,â€ Hoshi remembered. â€œI was also back in Brazil, teaching my students. That was okay, except for the part when a big spider walked up my bare leg.â€

Just the thought of that was enough to send a shiver down Tripâ€™s spine. He smirked in disgust, wondering how big spiders got in Brazil. He wasnâ€™t going to ask.

â€œAside from the fact,â€ Hoshi continued, â€œthat the wisp in my body tried to kill Phlox. So, to answer your question â€“ no: no fun at all. In fact, the sooner I can forget about yesterday the better.â€

Trip fell silent. The wisp in his body had also apparently attacked Phlox; fortunately the Denobulan had showed secret combat skills, prevailing over both of them and saving the day. 

â€œI wonder if those beings chose those particular memories for each of us randomly or picked them for some reason,â€ he said, almost to himself, after a moment.

â€œI donâ€™t really want to know,â€ Hoshi said.

Travis grinned. â€œIf Iâ€™d been taken over, I wouldnâ€™t have minded going back to the time when Paul and I were kids. We found some colourful alien liquor in our cargo.â€ His smile fell abruptly. â€œThough I would never want to relieve the moment my father found us totally smashed.â€

Trip chuckled, shaking his head. Heâ€™d earned himself quite a few fine dressing-downs from his dad as well, as a child. But as strict fathers went, he suspected Malcolmâ€™s beat them all. 

â€œI hope Malcolm was made to relieve somethinâ€™ pleasant,â€ he said. â€œIâ€™m beginning to feel like the only person who had a good time.â€

â€œI guess youâ€™ll have to ask him,â€ Hoshi said, putting her cup down. Getting up, she nodded. â€œIâ€™ll see you on the Bridge. Commander, Ensign.â€ 

Trip watched her move away. 

â€œLieutenant Reed didnâ€™t look like he was in a particularly good mood,â€ Travis said, drawing back Tripâ€™s attention. â€œIf you ask me, those wisps didnâ€™t treat him too kindly either.â€

â€œAh, you know Malcolm: heâ€™s probably kicking himself for failing to protect the crew,â€ Trip suggested.

â€œThereâ€™s that,â€ Travis said. But he didnâ€™t sound at all convinced. 

\-----

 

Trip opened the Armoury door and almost banged into Tâ€™Pol, who was about to leave.

â€œSubcommander,â€ he said in surprise. 

Hadnâ€™t she told Archer she had something to do before the shift started? He wouldâ€™ve never thought it was in the Armoury, of all places.

â€œCommander.â€ 

The Vulcan Officer tilted her head to one side, returning the greeting. Then she sinuously slipped out and left, heading for the turbo lift. Trip gave a mental shrug â€“ heâ€™d never understand the woman â€“ and entered Reedâ€™s domain.

It took him a moment â€“ and MÃ¼llerâ€™s help â€“ to find the man himself. Malcolm had apparently just disappeared inside an access tube, mumbling that something needed fixing. As Bernhard showed him to the right place, his green eyes sent him a silent S.O.S.; like saying â€˜bad mood in progress, please see what you can doâ€™. 

Indeed, the Armoury Officer was buried deep in the narrow confines, kneeling in front of an open panel with wires spewing out of it. The man had his neck craned, and as he studied the multi-coloured entanglement Trip could hear him mutter under his breath.

Bending, Trip entered the tube and started along it; he was half way there when Malcolm called, â€œBernhard, get me some pliers, will you?â€ to what he obviously thought was his approaching SIC. 

â€œItâ€™s not like you to come unprepared, Lieutenant,â€ Trip commented teasingly. 

Malcolm turned abruptly to the unexpected voice, not looking particularly happy to see him. Closing the gap between them, Trip unzipped a leg pocket and handed his friend the desired tool. He always carried a few basic utensils with him.

â€œThanks,â€ Malcolm grunted, grey eyes evasive. He turned back to his job. 

Settling on his haunches, Trip studied the mess at hand. â€œAnythinâ€™ I can help with?â€ 

â€œNothing I canâ€™t take care of myself,â€ Malcolm replied in an accent that was a bit too clipped, even for him. â€œNo need to disturb the Chief Engineer.â€

He isolated a wire, disconnected it, and proceeded to strip its end.

Trip put one knee to the ground. â€œWhatâ€™s wrong?â€ he asked deadpan. This was one man on edge he had here.

â€œBad connection,â€ was the terse reply.

Trip rolled his eyes. â€œYeah, I can see that. What I mean is whatâ€™s up with you. Travis said you didnâ€™t have breakfast.â€ 

Malcolm shot him one of his pissed-off glances. â€œCanâ€™t a man skip breakfast without becoming a case for study?â€ he ranted. â€œIâ€™m perfectly fine. Just wasnâ€™t hungry. It happens in the best of families.â€

Yeah, sure. If there was someone on board who could stand up to Travis as far as hearty breakfasts went, it was their resident Brit. Trip silently watched him reconnect the wire. His movements were tense, and he could see the muscles of his face work. Mister Construction Worker was doing it again â€“ he mused; quickly building a sturdy wall behind which to hide. But Trip was not going to be discouraged so fast. He handed the Lieutenant the screwdriver that was on the floor, which he knew Malcolm was about to need, and when Malcolm made to take it didnâ€™t release it, forcing him to meet his eyes. 

â€œI hope youâ€™re not feelinâ€™ bad because the ship was taken over by those wisps,â€ he told him firmly. Not that this kind of reasoning had ever worked with their overly scrupulous Security Officer, but you never knew.

Malcolm gave him an icy look and pried the screwdriver out of Tripâ€™s grip. â€œIâ€™m not feeling bad for that,â€ he said, frost coating his words. He turned to screw the panel back on.

â€œBut youâ€™re feelinâ€™ bad,â€ Trip insisted, as amicably as he could manage.

Stopping, Malcolm let his head fall forward and heaved a long-suffering sigh; when he turned, his gaze had narrowed dangerously. 

â€œTrip, have you come here to pester me? Because Iâ€™m sure you could find a better use for your time; I donâ€™t need someone to hand me tools.â€

â€œAh, but you just asked MÃ¼ller to bring you pliers,â€ Trip teased. What the hell; Malcolm really took himself too seriously, sometimes. Most of the time. Trying to ignore the piercing grey gaze, he went on lightly, â€œLook, Iâ€™ve only come to check on you, â€˜cause Travis said you didnâ€™t look well.â€ With a smile, he threw, â€œBesides, I was curious to know if those beings had sent you snowboardinâ€™ too.â€

A few, very long seconds ticked by; Trip had time to think it was a good thing he was not one of Lieutenant Reedâ€™s subordinates.

â€œWhere those wisps sent me is none of your business, Commander,â€ Malcolm finally said. 

When his voice dropped deep, like now, one had to watch out: it was always a useful metre of the manâ€™s anger â€“ the deeper the angrier. 

â€œSorry,â€ Trip croaked out. With an apologetic smile he added, â€œJust forget it. Didnâ€™t mean to get you upset.â€ Hell, now he was sounding like Archer. 

â€œIâ€™m not upset.â€

Malcolm turned back to his job, his stubborn claim belied by the energy he was applying to driving the screw in place. It would be a miracle if he didnâ€™t end up pushing it well past the panel it was supposed to hold up. 

â€œItâ€™s what that bloody wisp did with my body, rather, that...â€ he unexpectedly muttered; but the rest of the sentence never made it out, dammed as it was behind pursed lips.

Now, this was interesting. Just a moment before Malcolm had told him rather tersely to mind his own business, and suddenly he was opening a crack and almost taking him into his confidence. Trip hesitated. Something about the man almost spoke ofâ€¦ yes, outrage.

â€œI hope he didnâ€™t try to stuff it with food like mine did,â€ he tried, watching Malcolm viciously attack another screw. â€œI think I owe the Captâ€™n a thank you; if he hadnâ€™t stopped the damn thing I â€“ or rather, my body â€“ wouldâ€™ve probably been sick.â€

Malcolmâ€™s arms dropped listlessly down, and he leaned back on his heels, deflating. â€œI... he... whoever it wasâ€¦â€ he stuttered. Filling his lungs, he continued, voice low, eyes lowered, â€œApparently I harassed a crew woman in the turbo-lift with idiotic questions about males and females, and then...â€ 

Trip saw him dart a surreptitious look, and carefully controlled his own expression, which threatened to show a bit too much curiosity and make the man clam up again. â€œAnd then?â€ he prompted, striving for a neutral tone.

â€œI... he... it went to Tâ€™Polâ€™s quarters andâ€¦ wellâ€¦â€ 

Silence stretched. Malcolm winced, a blush creeping up his neck, which made Trip frown in sudden suspicion. 

â€œYa donâ€™t mean...â€ 

â€œIâ€™m afraid I do mean.â€

Trip blinked. â€œSon-of-a---â€ 

â€œOh, no, I donâ€™t mean!â€ Malcolm hurried to amend, his eyes growing wide. â€œI mean, not as far as that,â€ he choked out in horror. â€œGood heavens, by now I would have shoved myself out an airlock.â€

â€œWhat do you mean, then?â€ Trip burst out, no longer able to feign disinterest. Was it possible Malcolm could not tell him plainly, man to man? 

Malcolm placed two fingers on his eyes. â€œThe bloody wisp in my body made some rather lecherous overtures to Tâ€™Pol,â€ he finally confessed, his voice thick with unease. â€œFortunately, before I... he could act on his words, she was able to page Security and the Captain.â€ With a soft snort he tagged, â€œOf all people.â€

Trip frowned in thought. No wonder Tâ€™Pol had seemed put off by his amusement. 

â€œOh, boy,â€ he commented deadpan, almost to himself. 

With a sigh Malcolm broke his immobility and resumed his work, albeit less furiously. Moments later all four screws were in place, and he was handing the borrowed tool back. His grey eyes were like quicksilver, unable to stay on Tripâ€™s for longer than an instant at a time. 

â€œHey, it wasnâ€™t you,â€ Trip said, feeling sorry for his friendâ€™s unease. 

â€œI know, I know,â€ Malcolm muttered. â€œBut now when I meet Tâ€™Pol or the Captain, or even my own security men â€“ not to mention that poor crew woman â€“ I canâ€™t look them in the eye. I feel like digging a hole in the deck-plating to hide in.â€

Trip raised playful eyebrows. â€œYouâ€™d only drop to the deck below.â€ His joke fell flat, and was followed by a beat of silence. Suddenly something struck him. â€œSo thatâ€™s why I just saw Tâ€™Pol leave the Armoury,â€ he blurted out.

Malcolm winced. â€œRight. She came to set my mind at ease, and only managed to make me even more uptight.â€ Falling to a sitting position, he leaned back against the bulkhead. â€œâ€˜Lieutenant,â€ he said, mimicking Tâ€™Polâ€™s typical tone. â€œI have come to assure you that nothing inappropriate passed between us â€“ other than your appreciation of my aesthetic attributes, and your request that I remove my clothes so we could mate more easily. I am pleased, however, that I did not need to use Vulcan martial arts on your body, which would undoubtedly have resulted in damage to the same.â€™â€ Malcolm groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. â€œWhy me, of all people?â€

Trip bit his lip to restrain a chuckle. He could imagine his friendâ€™s dismay when Tâ€™Pol had delivered that speech. Following suit, he sat down on the floor across from him. â€œWhy not you?â€ he countered, not sure he understood the â€˜of all peopleâ€™ part.

â€œBecause. Iâ€™m not like that!â€

â€œWell, as to that, I hope nobody on board is a sex maniac.â€

Malcolm smirked. â€œCome on, Trip, you know what I mean.â€

â€œActually, I donâ€™t,â€ Trip said, after a momentâ€™s thought. â€œUnless you mean that youâ€™re not interested inâ€¦â€ â€“ he jerked his head sideways â€“ â€œUhm, ya know.â€

Malcolm shot him a nasty look. â€œBe serious. Itâ€™s that Iâ€™mâ€¦â€ His grey eyes turned wary, and he seemed to gauge if he dared go on. â€œIâ€™m the romantic type,â€ he finally expounded.

Licking his lips, Trip tried once again to restrain his mirth. Teasing Malcolm was more fun if he managed to hide his intentions behind a straight face. â€œOh, yeah, you and I were quite the romantic types on Risa,â€ he said.

â€œThat wasâ€¦ a stupid stunt. Iâ€™m not like that!â€

â€œHow about when you asked me what I thought of Tâ€™Pol, if I had ever looked at her, ya know, that way?â€ Trip went on mercilessly, drunken slur and all.

â€œI was drunk!â€ Malcolm exclaimed in outrage.

Trip shrugged. â€œIn vinum â€“ or should I say Bourbon? â€“ veritas.â€ This time he couldnâ€™t keep a wide grin off his face seeing the stunned expression of the man before him. â€œMy core curriculum did include Latin, in addition to Superman,â€ he said with a chuckle. 

The dread that appeared on Malcolmâ€™s face instantly sobered him up. 

â€œYou mean to tell me that that wisp chose my body because somehow he thought it was a fitting frame for his debauched aspirations?â€ Malcolm wondered. â€œBloody hell,â€ he cursed softly. 

â€œWhat?â€ That was a rather wide leap of logic â€“ or at least an unpredictable deduction â€“ and it took Trip a moment to react. â€œHey, I never meant that,â€ he hurried to say when he finally found his voice again. He watched the other man hug himself defensively, and felt a pang of conscience for his ribbing. 

â€œPerhaps thatâ€™s even why he went to Tâ€™Pol, of all people,â€ Malcolm went on with a grimace. â€œBecause he had accessed that memory of mine; because of what I told you that time.â€

â€œMalcolm, thatâ€™s insane,â€ Trip insisted. â€œDonâ€™t you start feelinâ€™ all guilty now about somethinâ€™ thatâ€™s totally unlikely.â€ 

â€œIâ€™m not like that, am I?â€ Malcolm asked, suddenly hesitant, as if he werenâ€™t sure any more. He stretched his neck. â€œI mean, Iâ€™m a man... and I notice certain things... and itâ€™s not as if I donâ€™t find the physical part of a relationshipâ€¦ enjoyable,â€ he said haltingly. â€œBut I could never take advantage of---â€ 

â€œMalcolm, please,â€ Trip cut him off, slightly horrified, now. â€œYou donâ€™t need to tell me that. Of course youâ€™re not like that. I was just ribbing you.â€

An uncomfortable silence fell. Trip kicked himself for his harebrained idea of pulling Malcolmâ€™s leg on such a delicate issue. He should know the man better by now. He passed a hand through his hair, preparing to offer an apology. 

â€œLook, Iâ€™m sorry. You know that I like to joke around,â€ he said. â€œIn any case, those of us who were taken over by those wisps acted out of character. Youâ€™re in good company. At least you didnâ€™t try to kill anyone, unlike me.â€

That got Malcolmâ€™s attention. His face seemed to relax fractionally. 

â€œWhat do you look for, in a woman?â€ he asked, all of a sudden.

Tripâ€™s eyes tracked to a pair of inquisitive grey eyes. He blinked. â€œWell, it depends,â€ he croaked out, taken aback. 

â€œOn what?â€ Malcolm asked with a frown.

â€œOn what I have to do with her. I mean,â€ Trip quickly went on, seeing the expression on his friendâ€™s face turn disapproving, â€œon whether sheâ€™s a work colleague, or a friend, or---â€

â€œA woman,â€ Malcolm repeated meaningfully. 

Trip cast a look towards the access tubeâ€™s exit, wishing MÃ¼ller would make a timely appearance. Despite his own fame as a Casanova, he suspected Malcolm had more experience with the fair sex than he did.

â€œWell, to be honest looks is fairly up in the list,â€ he began. Unoriginal, but true, while he thought of something else to say. 

Malcolm nodded encouragingly. 

â€œSense of humour, individuality,â€ Trip went on. â€œI donâ€™t like the stereotyped doll on high heels, or a woman with only looks and no brain.â€

â€œDefinitely the worst type,â€ Malcolm agreed. â€œThere has to be personality.â€

Trip sighed. â€œAh â€“ in the end itâ€™s no use,â€ he concluded, with a dismissive wave of the hand that was hanging loosely over his raised knee. â€œLove is unpredictable. You might think you like blondes, and then a dark-haired girl crosses your path and you find sheâ€™s the love of your life, if you know what I mean.â€

Malcolm shot him a troubled look. â€œI donâ€™t think Iâ€™ll ever find the â€˜love of my lifeâ€™,â€ he muttered, eyes darting quickly away.

â€œWhy the hell not?â€

â€œI told you, that time in the Shuttlepod; I canâ€™t get close to people.â€ Lettin out a mirthless huff, Malcolm added, almost to himself, â€œAnd maybe I shouldnâ€™t, with my line of work.â€

Trip didnâ€™t really know what to say to that. It was pretty downcast. And his friendâ€™s unease wasnâ€™t helping.

â€œBut if I did find someone special, I would indeed want it to be for life,â€ Malcolm went on. His eyes were still carefully averted as he concluded, â€œI guess thatâ€™s what I meant when I said Iâ€™m the romantic type.â€

It figured â€“ Trip mused. The man was never superficial. He did things with characteristic intensity, gave it his one hundred percent. 

There was another long moment of silence. 

â€œMaybe itâ€™s not that youâ€™re havinâ€™ a hard time gettinâ€™ close to people,â€ Trip suggested. â€œMaybe itâ€™s the other way round: people find you so intense, so committed, that they are kind of afraid to even try to get close; afraid youâ€™ll expect too much of them.â€

The grey eyes came back to him, wary. â€œYou think so?â€ Malcolm wondered quietly. He gave another mirthless huff. â€œThatâ€™s hardly reassuring.â€ 

Wincing inwardly, Trip looked for a way to explain his thoughts better. He was managing to make a total mess of this. â€œHey, thatâ€™s not necessarily a bad thing,â€ he said with a small smile. â€œSome people you want to keep at armâ€™s length. And when you find someone willinâ€™ to get close, you can be sure theyâ€™ll be worth your time.â€

Another thoughtful pause followed. 

Trip bit his lip. â€œTake me, for example; I like the intensity you can communicate.â€

Malcolm blinked once. â€œAre you proposing, Commander?â€ 

Relieved to see a small smile finally dawn on his friendâ€™s face, Trip rolled his eyes. 

â€œBloody hell,â€ Malcolm cursed softly. â€œLove must be the only thing that has remained exactly the same since Adam and Eve; still the same messy and complicated business as on day one.â€

â€œPut your mind at ease, Lieutenant. Iâ€™m afraid love is nothinâ€™ but a futile subject of conversation aboard the Enterprise; unless you can convince Starfleet to change the rules, that is.â€

â€œOr unless you can find a beautiful alien,â€ Malcolm suggested, darting him a sly glance. 

Indeed, since the beginning of their mission, Trip had collected a few romances out here in space. He nudged Malcolm with one foot. â€œAs for that,â€ he said innocently, â€œwe have one on board â€“ youâ€™ve got to admit, that wisp had good taste.â€

â€œTrip!â€ 

Trip let himself go to a liberating laugh. 

â€œEven though she does not wear a Starfleet uniform, sheâ€™s still a senior officer of this crew,â€ Malcolm warned, unnecessarily.

â€œAll right.â€ Trip started to pick himself up from the floor. â€œThen weâ€™ll have to find some other beautiful alien.â€ 

â€œIâ€™d rather not, thank you.â€ Malcolm followed suit and they started along the tube, towards the exit. â€œAfter Risa, your pregnancy, that poor girl who lived surrounded by holograms, and that haughty Princess, the sight of a beautiful alien will only get me nervous.â€

â€œVery unromantic.â€ 

A groan met that comment. 

The hatch at the end of the tube opened and Trip saw a face appear. MÃ¼ller watched them approach, his green eyes assessing his SIC; then dancing to him with a smile in them.

The Armoury felt large and cold, after spending some time in that hot hole of an access tube. 

â€œBridge duty is in ten minutes, Sir,â€ Bernhard reminded his Commanding Officer. 

â€œTen minutes?â€ Malcolm cried out. â€œThatâ€™s hardly enough time for a cup of coffee! Iâ€™m starved.â€

Trip chuckled. â€œCome on, Lieutenant,â€ he said, herding Malcolm towards the door. â€œThe Captain wonâ€™t demote you if for once youâ€™re a few minutes late.â€

â€œRun a diagnostic, Bernhard,â€ Malcolm instructed over his shoulder. â€œCheck if everything reads okay now.â€

â€œAye, Sir.â€

The tall Ensign gave Trip a relieved and grateful nod. Indeed, a troubled Lieutenant Reed must not be a pleasant Commanding Officer to have around, Trip mused as he followed his friend out of the Armoury.

â€œSo,â€ he said with a sideway glance as they strode to the turbo lift. â€œWhere did those wisps send you: onto Admiral Nelsonâ€™s ship? To Sherwood Forest with bow and arrows? To Malaysia? â€“ Come on, Malcolm, you can tell me.â€

â€œWhy, because you like the intensity I can communicate?â€

Trip shrugged. â€œYes,â€ he said with a grin.

They walked another few steps in silence.

â€œFirst kiss,â€ Malcolm said quietly. â€œAnd, bloody hell! A memorable one it was.â€

Trip felt his mouth twitch. 

â€œShe had the softest lips I---â€

Just then Tâ€™Pol rounded the bend in the corridor, coming from the other direction. She shot Malcolm a surprised look. Ah â€“ those Vulcan earsâ€¦

â€œSubcommander,â€ Trip greeted, grinning widely; all the more so because he was aware, with his peripheral vision, of Malcolm snapping straighter as he mumbled his own greeting.

â€œCommander, Lieutenant.â€ 

Tâ€™Polâ€™s voice was level as usual, but that of course meant nothing.

â€œPlease shoot me right here and end my suffering,â€ Malcolm groaned as soon as he was sure she could not hear him. He stopped, closed his eyes, and went on, theatrically, â€œWhat matters any more, but only love? Thereâ€™s only love that matters any more.â€

â€œThereâ€™s only love, the rest is all outspent,â€ Trip finished for him, pleased to see Malcolmâ€™s jaw drop. â€œD. H. Lawrence, We have gone too far. Though Iâ€™m pretty sure he wasnâ€™t referring to either one of us and Tâ€™Pol.â€ 

Malcolm was frozen in place for a couple of seconds; then smiled. â€œLet us rise up and go from out this grey,â€ he continued, starting to walk again.

Trip burst out laughing. â€œYou want me to shoot you, and rob the universe of such an inveterate romantic? Oh, no! I cannot be that cruel!â€


End file.
